Dark and Light
by Xenexian
Summary: There are a few rules in Laurel's world: don't talk about the Unspeakables, don't criticise the LEO and don't commit a crime, because you'll get sent to the Island. And most people who end up there don't come back.
1. Part I: Chapter One

**A/N:** Hey there guys. I'm back! So this is my novel that I started to write in August Camp NaNoWriMo; I stopped at the beginning of chapter six, so I am now continuing it so that I know where to begin Part II for NaNoWriMo in November and such. Basically, this is one of my favourite works and I would really appreciate some reviews to tell me if and where I'm going wrong and such. Thanks and hope you enjoy!

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_**Chapter One**_

_**Location: The De Morville house**_

Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but on the day of my eighteenth birthday, I was arrested for breaking and entering and robbery.

On the day in question, I was lying awake in bed, looking at the ceiling in my bedroom. The night time glow from outside painted it a dark grey- orange colour, making it a whole different ceiling; in the daylight, it was white and patterned. Usually, I lay awake for hours watching the stars twinkle in the sky through my bedroom window, sometimes staying awake on the weekends to watch the dawn work its way into being. It was always a beautiful sight, one which I always tried to catch when I could.

I checked the clock that was on my bedside table; it showed that the time was twenty past two in the morning. I exhaled somewhat nervously, I had ten minutes to get there, or else another opportunity would be lost, and I couldn't bear that thought after all these years. So I slid out of bed and decided that tonight would be the night. It was now or never, and I was determined to make tonight 'now'.

Plaiting my hair around my neck and over my shoulder, I pulled on my thick leggings; unlike the modern material that people usually wore that made a noise whenever you made the slightest movement, my leggings would not only allow me to be agile, but also to be silent when I needed to be. And tonight was a time when I definitely needed to be silent. After that, I put on a dark green vest top and my favourite black leather jacket. My old leather boots went on next, as my new ones squeaked.

I took a glance around my room and then went to my window, sliding across the latch carefully; pushing the window up, I climbed out of it. Standing on the kitchen roof, I could truly see the whole of Birmingham to my right. I paused for a second to watch the lights twinkle before jumping across the gap and onto a wall. From there, I dropped onto the cobbles of the alley behind my house, happy that I wasn't wearing the new boots which clicked every time the soles came into contact with a solid surface.

Making my way skilfully through the familiar streets, I finally came to my destination. The house. I counted windows; third from the left on the second storey... Third from the left on the second storey... There it was! Open, as promised, and a huge tree right next to it. Grinning, I carefully shielded my body from the windows as I climbed up the trunk to the branch that was next to the window and began to carefully shimmy across it, being careful to balance my weight out so that the branch didn't snap. Finally, I was there, one leap... I landed like a cat on the mahogany floor and praised Jose in my mind. _You genius!_

A vase, which had been sitting on a small table beside the window, wobbled ominously and fell onto the floor with a dull _thunk_! Thankfully, it didn't break, but it rolled out of the room and onto the landing. I scurried after it, holding my breath in horror as it teetered at the edge of the landing, a millimetre away from falling down the stairs, and therefore alerting everybody in the house that i was there. I picked it up and hurried back into the drawing room, putting it safely back on its table. From this point, it was easy to make my way through the drawing room and towards the landing. There were many rooms in this house, and I was in the east wing, which meant the third staircase would be the one that would take me to my true destination; I hastened towards it silently, praying that there would be no creaky floorboards along the way. I didn't think there was, but one could never be too sure.

When I finally got to the staircase that I needed, I began inching my way down the steps. Here was where it would be easiest for me to be caught, and I needed to conserve my energy for if I needed to run.

The sixth stair creaked beneath my boot- clad foot and I froze in my steps, glancing down at the staircase beneath me in horror. _Please please please don't let that have woken them up!_ I strained my hearing to its fullest, waiting to hear the telltale sounds of people stirring in their bed chambers, or of the servants coming to investigate what had made the noise.

I heard nothing, however, and continued to creep down the stairs, trying desperately to remember the blueprint of this area of the house; I had memorized the blueprint in its entirety weeks previously, but now that I was actually in there, it was completely different.

When I got to the doorway at the foot of the stairs, I flattened my body against the ornately gold plated wall and inched my head around the doorframe. Peeking around the corner and seeing no guard or security measures, I slipped through the doorway and sprinted across the room on the very tip of my toes. After reaching the other side of the room, I plucked a rope off a peg on the wall that a friend of mine had managed to get there; he was an employee for the De Morvilles, the most influential family in the country. They were practically British royalty, and here I was, sneaking around in their house.

I wasn't there for no reason, though. I was going to steal something, something that was vital for my survival, and my family's. I had spent six years of my life preparing for this one moment. There had been a lot of false starts in the past, chances for me to get in that weren't taken, or times where I'd been so close to that safe that I could almost _touch_ it, and a servant or a guard had appeared out of nowhere.

When you lived in the time I lived in, running for your life wasn't all that uncommon.

There was another set of stairs through the doorway, these ones smaller and carpeted. Good, that would make it easier for me to get down them without being heard. I took each step carefully, knowing that this staircase was older than the one I had just come down. Each one squeaked or groaned, but not too loudly, so by the time I had made it to the next doorway, I wasn't worried about that any more. _Focus on the present, Laurel. _

The doorway in front of me posed a problem; six padlocks, all combination locks, an electric retina scanning device and then a massive turn lock. I pulled out a sheet of paper and slowly, unfolded it so that the rustle was almost silent; there on the sheet lay the combinations and a code and instructions to override the retina scanner.

I got to work on the first lock, twiddling the dials until the correct numbers came up: 1638. It clicked and I pulled it off, hanging the lock off my belt for safekeeping. The next lock came away too - 3427 - and then the next - 6984. When all of the padlocks were hanging from my belt like weird charms, I consulted the sheet. On the scanner, I pressed the symbol that looked like a keyhole and punched in the numbers quickly and silently. _So close._ 837691011284. There was a vibration in the scanner as the options screen came up.

I could taste it.

I clicked on the manual override button and waited as the code screen loaded.

The freedom was almost there.

11698454tfl5gs3. The screen glowed green for a second or two before coming to another screen. A personnel screen came up and I keyed in the next code. D3ashh6668743hilo.

The possibility of a new life.

An almost silent beep and then I had one obstacle to face: the spin lock. I used my full strength up spin the wheel around and then pulled the door open. Pulling a small canister out of my jacket pocket, I sprayed it around in the air in front of me, illuminating red laser beams. Aerosol disinfectant was really a great invention.

I crawled underneath the beams for about three metres and then hopped between a few before edging towards the prize. A small leather bag. I pulled its drawstring around my neck and turned, hopping and sliding my way out of the safe before shutting the door, spinning the wheel back into place, re-initiating the retina scanner and hastening up the stairs, the paper clutched in my hand.

It could all be mine now.

I made it as far as the landing by the drawing room before anyone saw me. I tensed, ready to fight, but then saw it was only Jose. Thank god!

"Laurel, what are you doing?!" he whisper shouted, looking pale and sickly. "Get out of here before the guards come! The retina scanner override showed up on their system!"

I only had time to think 'shit' before two guards rounded the corner. The only had to take one look at me to know that I shouldn't have been there. Not thinking, I broke into a heavy run towards the drawing room. _So close._ One of them huffed behind me and something wrapped around my ankles.

I came down on the floor hard, ankles wrapped in a whip. '_Holy shit, a whip? Since when did guards carry whips?'_ my confused brain screamed. I twisted, trying desperately to get away, but it was no use. They had me trapped. I was pulled upright by my hair by the burlier one and the padlocks dropped from my belt, hitting the floor with a defiant tinkle- thud, a noise that only solid metal could make when hitting mahogany floor boards.

"Well, what do we have here?" he breathed as I struggled. The pain from the roots of my hair was excruciatingly sharp but I tried to ignore it and think clearly. '_Shit, Laurel, you're dead now.'_ my brain supplied. I told it sharply to shut up and keep its opinions to itself.

There was a noise from along the hallway as Mr. De Morville entered the room, a plush velvet and woollen dressing gown in rich maroons and golds. He looked tired and angry and, when he saw what was going on, angry beyond belief. He practically sprinted up to me and snatched the tiny leather pouch from around my neck quickly.

"Ring the L. E. O," he said in a low voice. Panic swept through me at his words. _No, not the L. E. O, anything but the L. E. O!_ I struggled harder than ever, a moan escaping my lips when my movements caused the guard's hold on my hair to tug even more painfully at my scalp.

"You thought you'd get away with this? Stealing from the most influential man in the entire Commonwealth?" Mr. De Morville scoffed angrily. "Do you know what they'll do to you? You'll go to the Island, and you won't come back."

I was horrified that he would threaten me with this, threaten _anybody _with this. I struggled harder than ever to break the grip of the guard that was still clutching my hair in his fist, but it was no use. I may as well be trying to move a mountain.

The guard dumped me in an ornate dark wooden chair that was hard and uncomfortable, cuffing my wrists behind me with black plastic cable ties. They were unyielding and made my wrists hurt as they chafed against the skin there. No doubt I was going to have cuts there before too soon.

I had been so close.

It only took the L. E.s six minutes to get to the house, and two and a half for Mr. De Morville to explain what had happened. Luckily, nobody seemed to know who I was and Jose had miraculously vanished from the scene of my capture. It seemed that the guards hadn't noticed him in their attempts to catch me, for which I was grateful. I didn't want Jose to be in trouble as well, that would only make things ten times worse.

I, being my usual rebellious and overly prideful self, refused to say a word. The L. E. O. was scary and the prospect of being put on the Island was terrifying, but I didn't say a word to any of their questions. In the end, they pulled a member of staff in that used to go to school with me and she identified me. I glared at her through the gap between the door and the doorframe that her voice was drifting through.

So close to changing everything.

"So, Laurel Hayes," the tallest L. E. asked me triumphantly. "You are under arrest for breaking and entering and theft. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court, anything you do say may be given in evidence." With that, he hauled me out of the chair and they dragged me out of the house and into the street. Dawn was coming, red, muted sunlight blooming slowly over the horizon. It was the time of day that I loved the most; it was fitting that it would be the time when I was arrested.

The few people that were in the street on their way to work gawped at me being pulled along by two L. E.s The van was close enough that they could more or less just throw me into it from the front door, but they walked me to is, cutting the cable ties from my wrists before cuffed me to the railing inside the van. After slamming the doors shut and locking them, they walked up to the front of the van and climbed into the two front seats.

"… A day's work, I guess. Why these kids feel the need to steal, I'll never know," One of them was saying; I thought that it was the shorter man. The engine purred into life and we started to move forward, cutting onto the road quickly.

"You never know, she could live in the Slums," the taller one replied. His voice came from the right hand side of the van, so I deduced that he was driving.

"We subsidize their wages though!" the shorter one exclaimed; I had the mental image of him throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Maybe she doesn't think like that," tall guy said and they both went quiet. The sound of the wheels bouncing over the potholes in the road echoed around the roomy back of the van. It was unnerving and disorientating, not being able to see where we were going, but my brain reasoned that I knew my way to the station anyway, so it didn't matter that I couldn't see the road; I knew exactly where we were without needing to see it.

Ten minutes later, we pulled to a stop outside the station. The sound of the doors slamming shut in front of me were like gunshots to my ears, and then light was streaming around me as the back doors were pulled open. The tall guy stalked into the van and unlocked the part of my cuffs that was attached to the railing, holding onto it as he walked me into the reception of the station.

It was sterile white in colour, a nondescript, plain white bench on the side where he deposited me. The short guy, who I noticed now was balding slightly, spoke in a low voice to the lady behind the counter and then walked back over. They searched me quickly, getting rid of my headband, shoes, the aerosol disinfectant and the piece of paper with the codes on; the two last objects were bagged as evidence. Then they threw me into a cell.

I looked around just as the door slammed shut. Damnit! This hadn't been what I had wanted to happen. The plan had been to get in, grab the money, and get the hell back out of there, get home and then, in the morning, put my big girl pants on and bargain for my family's immunity to the Trials.

The Trials are a yearly sort of census, in which every person in the Commonwealth undergoes a physical test to see how fit they were. If they were deemed fit, they had to work in the Public Sector, which are low- paid jobs that nobody wants to do. If they were unfit, they were put into the Group Home, a truly gigantic hospital where all of the unfit people lived. If you failed the mental test, you were also put there. However, if you had enough money or a good enough reputation, you could bargain your way out of the tests and live happily. The money would have gotten that for my family.

I screwed my face up in frustration. _Why hadn't Jose told me that the system override showed up on the guards' computer?!_ Didn't he know, or had he just forgotten? No, he couldn't have just forgotten such an important detail. We had been planning it for years. Maybe he didn't know, then. I refused to believe that he had screwed me over.

I sat down heavily on the foldout bed that was attached to the wall of the cell, face in my hands. _Pull yourself together, Laurel._ After a minute or two, I reached up to undo the plait that was still in my hair, even though the hair band was gone. Waves of golden brown hair fell past my shoulders, curly from the way I had plaited it.

So close. So amazingly, terrifyingly close. And now I have blown it.

I already knew what was going to happen; I would go to my trial with a state lawyer as my only defence, knowing that I could only plead guilty because I had tried to steal the money, I had broken in (kind of) and I had been intending to use it to blackmail the De Morvilles. There wasn't a reason for what I did that would actually stand in my favour in court. I would be found guilty for definite, and the sentence would be this: I would be going to the Island. For how long, I didn't know, but most people who were sent there… they didn't come back.


	2. Part I: Chapter Two

**A/N:** I'm back, guys! So yeah, I lost around 2000 words I wrote on chapter seven, which sucks, so I kind of forgot about updating yesterday like I was going to, and I began to re-write chapter seven. But I forgot to save it like an idiot (I felt like using a stronger word here, trust me), so I'm writing it AGAIN now. IT MAKES ME SO ANGRY. Also, in other yet not totally unrelated news, NaNoWriMo in nine days... This is going to be insane, what with my A Levels. Crazy! But I will still try and update for you guys and write that at the same time as doing essays and such for Sixth Form. I WILL BE MEGA CRAY CRAY BUSY. Also, if there is anyone out there who wishes to chat or something, my twitter is Accio_Glasses. I do follow back!

-Lauren

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**_Chapter Two_**

**_Location: The L. E. O. station_**

After refusing to answer any of the questions that the L. E's asked me, I slept in the cell at the station overnight and it was highly uncomfortable. Every time I managed to drift off, a door would slam, or another person would shout. Usually, though, my body just woke up unexpectedly. By the time I finally fell into a decent sleep, it was five in the morning, and one of the L. E.s came to wake me up at seven.

Operating on two hours of sleep would be hard enough in usual circumstances, but I needed to speak with my appointed lawyer. As I had no money and was only eighteen, and therefore apparently not eligible to choose my own lawyer, the L. E. O. had picked one for me. As I was being led to the main interview room, I caught a glimpse of other people who had been arrested during the early hours. Most of them were drunk, or maybe sleeping off some type of drug, but a few stared out of their cell at me defiantly. As if they were proud of being caught for breaking the law. I try to remind myself that I, too, broke the law, and that my criminal act was premeditated, but I wasn't triumphant about being arrested. Maybe their expressions were just to show the L. E. O. that they weren't scared of them.

At the table in the interview room was a tall man, obviously over six feet tall, folded into a small metal chair. He had short brown hair that had been styled into the latest fashion. He had green eyes and was wearing a sharp black suit. He looked to be in his early twenties. Very professional - this was the first thing I thought when I saw him.

I sat down and the L. E. - Law Enforcer - left us alone. My lawyer cleared his throat before beginning.

"Miss Hayes. I am Andrew Colton, your state- appointed lawyer. I'll be spearheading your defence for your trial."

"I know," I replied. It had been the first time I had spoken in over a day, so it came out slightly hoarse and raspy. I hadn't meant to sound defiant, but I realized a second too late that I did when Andrew's eyebrows went up.

"What exactly happened last night?" he asked, all business.

"I woke up at twenty past two in the morning, got changed, and snuck out of my house. I climbed up a tree and got through the window of the drawing room in the De Morville's house. I then got to the safe and broke into it, stealing ten million pounds. I got as far as the doorway to the drawing room before the guards caught me. They called the L. E. O. and here I am." I told him, trying my best to look petulant, arms folded across my chest, my voice and face devoid of emotion. I was suddenly aware of how tired and ruffled I must truly look. I ignored this.

"And your reasons for attempting to steal ten million pounds were…?" he prodded, his voice a little gentler now. I think he was just relieved that I had told him the truth instead of trying to lay some sort of emotive lie on him.

I shrugged, trying to seem unruffled by my predicament. "I needed the money."

His eyebrows went up again at my comment and he made a tiny note on the paper on his clipboard with his expensive- looking fountain pen. "Why did you need the money, Miss Hayes?" he asked next, a little more probing than gentle this time.

I sighed, leaning forward now, realizing that telling the truth was something that I had to do in a nicer and more personable way if I wanted to earn his trust and enable him to give me a decent defence in court.

"My family and I live in the slums," I explained in a low voice. "The Trials are coming up, okay? Every year, my parents are getting lower and lower scores on the fitness tests. I'm scared that they'll take them away from me. How would I be able to live then, without my mother and father? Aside from the fact that my job doesn't earn enough to feed a hamster anyway, what would I do on my own with bills to pay? The extra money that we get from the L. E. O. is eaten up by the bills as soon as it comes in anyway. It is no use.

"So I remembered that the families that have enough money or are very influential are able to get out of the Trials somehow. When I was twelve, I hatched this crazy plan to break into the house and steal their money so that my family and other families like mine wouldn't have to do the Trials anymore and that they would be safe and kept together. The L. E. O. doesn't see the sort of devastation that a family is left with when one of their own is put in the Group Home." It all came out in a big rush and once I had said it, I was oddly glad that I had got it out finally. It was like this massive weight had been lifted from my chest, now that someone understood why I had even made the crazy plan to steal an eighth of what the De Morvilles had.

There was a knock on the door and an L. E popped his head into the room. "Mista 'Orris asks tha' you wrap this li'l conversashun up, Mista Col'on, an' he apologizes in a'vance, on'y ee needs ta see ya abou' tha' case from las' munth. Surry."

Andrew sighed and wrote something else on his clipboard and smiles at me without any real humour.

"I apologize, Miss Hayes, and I'll be back in just a moment." With that, he dropped his clipboard on the steel table and walked out of the room, following the L. E with the thick cockney accent. I sat for a moment, trying to fight the impulse to read what he had been writing about me. After two minutes, my curiosity got the better of me, and I quickly snatched the clipboard up, scanning it with my eyes.

The notes that he had taken surprised me. It seemed that he intended to really play up how I was poor and lived in the slums and that I had tried to steal the money because I couldn't stand the pain of losing my parents, as so many of my family had been lost to the Trials before. Unaware that I was practically imitating him, I raised my eyebrows and swiftly placed the clipboard back where it had been sitting when I had picked it up.

I returned to my earlier pose and crossed my arms across my chest and waited for a few minutes until my lawyer re- entered the room. Shutting the door behind him softly, his eyes did a customary sweep of the room before landing on me. Giving me a small smile that, again, didn't reach his green eyes, he walked back over to his chair and folded himself into it once again.

"I am sorry about that, Miss Hayes. There was a case that Mr. Horris wished to discuss with me,"

I had quickly grown tired of hearing him call me 'Miss Hayes'. "Please, call me Laurel," I told him and he nodded, smiling slightly.

After glancing at his notes, he leaned forward in his seat again so that he was closer to me. "Now, Miss Hay - I mean, Laurel, the way that I am going to go about this is by exaggerating the fact that you are from the Slums. Are you okay with that?"

Well, it was damn nice that he was asking me when he had clearly already had his mind made up. "That's fine with me; I don't really care if I get made to look like a pauper if it gets me a reduced sentence."

"Good," he replied, nodding. "Then we will have another chat in two days time when I have a better case. I will be researching your history, and that of your family's, if that is okay with you, and then I shall be back with more information to make you look good." He stood, grabbing a black leather briefcase that I hadn't noticed before, clutching his paperwork under his arm, and held out his right hand for me to shake. I stood also, reaching over and shaking his hand. "Best of luck," he muttered as he exited the room. An L. E walked over to me, cuffed me (I didn't see why; it was about a three metre walk to my cell) and led me into the corridor. Ahead of me, near the reception, Andrew was signing out. I was thrown into my cell after having my wrists freed from the stainless steel handcuffs and I watched as the L. E slammed the door of my cell shut.

I sat down slowly on the fold out bed (really, it was just a concrete slab with a thin mattress on top of it. There was no need for sheets or a duvet, as the station was kept a stable temperature that was really very warm) and thought hard about what had just happened. My state lawyer seemed to know what he was doing, which was a comforting thought, and he had said that he would have a stable case to work on with my background and the information that I had supplied him with in the interview. But, at the same time, he hadn't exactly said that he would be able to get me out of going to the Island. Part of me whispered that I'd known all along that I would end up going there. They always did.

I was woken abruptly a few hours later by a female L. E, which was something that I had never seen before; all of the L. Es that I had ever seen were men.

"You're being taken to a more secure holding place today," she said in a kindly voice. I looked up at her through my curtain of unruly wavy hair. No doubt I looked like absolute shit, whereas she was standing in front of me in her pristine white uniform with straight red hair combed back into a high ponytail. I nodded, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor, holding back a yawn.

"Do you think I could get something to change into, and maybe a hairbrush?" I asked in a voice hoarse from the time that I had spent being asleep. The L. E considered my question and then left. A minute later, she returned with an armful of clothes and a hairbrush.

"Use that quickly, you're not meant to have it. I'll stay here and watch in case you try something funny with it," she told me quietly. I was taken aback - I hadn't actually expected her to do what I asked - and then I saw it. The silver 'TRAINEE' badge pinned to her lapel. Figures, they would send in an L. E that wasn't even qualified yet. I was half amazed at my luck and half insulted; didn't they think I could take her? She looked about six stone soaking wet, was smaller than me and was obviously quite the pushover. I didn't think that she had chosen the right career for her, funnily enough.

I stood up and picked the hairbrush up off of the pile of clothes that the trainee had dumped on the floor (it was a good job that I had been keeping my cell clean) and yanked it through my hair many times. When the last knot was finally out, I patted my hair, which had been reduced to a static mess. I sighed, feeling that this was at least better than the crazy birds nest than it had been before.

I handed the brush back to her and she leaned out of the cell to throw it onto the desk. I was fully aware that now was the chance for me to escape: if I rushed her at just the right angle, I would be able to knock her down, or to the side, and then break free. The doors would only take a second and the small fence outside was one I could easily hurdle. I'd be out and then I could be free, even if I was doomed to be in hiding for the rest of my days.

But I just couldn't do it. My mind drifted to my parents, a thought that I had been attempting to block from my mind for over a day now. They wouldn't want me to become an outlaw. At least if I went down with my head held high and full of dignity, I would have shown the L. E. O. that they could try all they wanted, but they could never fully control us.

I reached over and picked up the clothes. The bundle held a pair of blue jeans and a white vest top. A black hooded jacket, the type that you wore when going to the gym, was folded on top, and it was thick and comfortable. I turned away and pulled off my leather jacket. The trainee blushed almost as red as her fiery hair and muttered something about standing outside and to pass my old clothes through the hatch in the door, which was open. The cell door shut and I paused for a moment, thinking.

If there was one thing I couldn't get rid of, it would be my leather jacket. My father had bought it for me two years ago for my sixteenth birthday, and it held a real sentimental value for me. I placed it carefully onto the bed and pulled off the thick black leggings and the green top, replacing them with the jeans (which turned out to be skinny jeans, a little too big, but it wasn't like they were hanging off of me) and the white top. Over that, I pulled on my leather jacket and then donned the hooded jacket too. There, that would work. I pushed the old clothes through the hatch in the door and the L. E scrutinized me, knowing that I had kept the leather jacket, but choosing not to say anything about it.

Huh, I guess she really _was_ a push over.

I was only left waiting about five minutes or so before a male L. E came to pull me out of the cell by handcuffs which he had fastened around my wrists. As I was led past reception, through the doors and into the back of the L. E. O. van, I wondered whether my parents had been told about me being caught yet. All those years, and they had never known what I had been planning. A sharp, acute pain in my chest sprang up and I realized that I missed them. I had always been independent, even as a small child, but now… now I just wanted my mom and my dad to pull me out of trouble as they always had done in the past when I had gotten a shouting at from a teacher at school or a warning from work.

That wasn't going to happen. Not now, probably not ever. The thought depressed me, so I decided to focus on something else instead.

I knew that tomorrow I would be meeting with Andrew again and he would tell me what he had found out while he had been taking a leisurely stroll through my past. Hopefully, he had found something that would benefit me and my case.

Once I was secured to the side rail in the van by my handcuffs and seated on the bench, the L. E and another man, probably the guy's partner, climbed into the front of the van. The engine rumbled into life beneath my feet and, with a lurch, we started forwards towards my new temporary prison.

I hoped the trial would be soon. I couldn't stand being locked in a cell for much longer; at least on the Island, you got to walk around. I hated feeling trapped, and that was exactly what being put into a cell in a prison at the station or the gaol block was. The problem was, while I was stuck inside a tiny room being monitored by the L. E. O. every hour of the day, my family and others like me would be getting ready to take the Trials. I scrunched my face up, attempting and failing to put that thought out of my mind. _You tried and it didn't work, Laurel._ _You can't save them._

The only problem was that I had had my chance. I'd had the chance to save people the torture of being sent to the Group Home, or watching their family and friends be dragged off, and I hadn't taken it. If I hadn't of wasted time in the hallway with Jose, listening to him rambling on about the guards knowing about the system override, I'd of made it back home ten million pounds richer. And then who knows what I could have done to change the people who lived in the slums' lives for the better.

Why did I stand there and listen to Jose Matthews anyway?! I was at the _doorway _of the drawing room, for God's sakes! Even if they already knew, I would have been gone before they had even hit the corridor. And then everything would have been different.

I wouldn't be sitting in an L. E. O. van, cuffed to the side of it and on the way to a detention centre, for one thing.

The only thought that could give me any comfort was the fact that I had shaken them up. The L. E. O. and the De Morvilles. Hopefully the other eleven families that made up the new government.

And if I could shake them up… so could anybody else.


	3. Part I: Chapter Three

**A/N:** I'm back! I've spent a while editing this one, so sorry for the wait guise... It would be great for someone to comment this story, tell me what I'm doing wrong, what I'm doing right etc. I'd love you all forever! Also, I am now doing NaNoWriMo for the third year running, and I'm getting pretty far into the story! I'm at just over 7k, so I am two thousand words over my target. It's good when things work out!

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**_Chapter Three_**

**_Location: The detention centre_**

It took approximately twenty- seven minutes for us to get to the goal block, which was out of town and in another district of Birmingham. The L. Es that I was with seemed determined to give me nothing to think about, nothing to learn from them, as they kept quiet the whole ride there, unlike the two who had arrested me at the house.

The sun was just past it's highest point in the sky, so I gathered that it was around one o'clock in the afternoon. While the L. Es checked me in at the reception, I looked around me at the gaol. It was sterile, just like the station, and had neatly trimmed plants dotted around in an attempt to make the place look a little better. The detention centre was only a temporary base that held people who had been arrested before they had to go to the Island, but it had once been a huge prison that criminals had been in for years at a time. At least nowadays you don't have to wait too long before you know what is going to happen to you.

After about four or five minutes of the L. Es talking very quietly to the receptionist, who was also in a white uniform. She nodded a few times more and then walked towards me. She was tall and slim with blonde hair.

"Miss Hayes, if you would like to follow me to the courtyard," she said in a monotonous voice and led me towards the double doors with a lock on them. I remembered the padlocks that I had pulled off of the door to the safe back at the De Morville's house.

I quickly pushed that thought out of my head and continued to walk through the long corridor until we reached a door with a huge sign on it that said 'COURTYARD'. The receptionist locked it with a code and undid my handcuffs. Pushing me none too gently through the door way, I looked around me at the courtyard.

Considering that I knew there were thousands of people in the detention centre, the courtyard wasn't as full as I had expected it to be, but there were around four hundred to five hundred people either seated on some stairs, working out in a corner of the yard, or standing around talking. Seeing as I knew nobody there, I figured that my safest option was to go over to the stairs and sit down on my own. We would all probably be at the Island soon enough anyway, so keeping to myself seemed the best course of action.

However, I had only been seated for ten minutes before another person came over and sat down beside me. He was very tall, around six foot three, and had cropped brown hair and very blue eyes. He seemed only a few years older than me and had little white earphones sticking out of his ears. I figured that he was a sucker for all things music.

He caught me staring at him and pulled one of the earphones out. He waved slowly at me, not smiling. I decided to break the ice and speak first, seeing as he didn't look like he would.

"What are you listening to?" I asked. Immediately, I wished that I hadn't asked.

"_All you'll ever be is a fading memory of a bully!_" he sang. I raised my eyebrows at him and he grinned. "Bully by Shinedown. Now, I figure that you'll have no idea who they are, so I shall tell you. A rock band. This song was from the two- thousands."

I stared at him, shocked. "How did you get music from nearly ninety years ago?"

"The Internet," he responded with a shrug. "It was good then, it's even better now."

"I've never been on the Internet," I muttered ruefully. Of course I knew what it was, but as my family had never had any money, we hadn't been able to get a computer or a tablet. This guy probably had both.

"_Ignorance is your new best friend!_" he sang again at me, tilting his head to one side. "Ignorance by Paramore. Another band from the same period of time."

"You're addicted," I breathed under my breath before smiling at him like a sane person would. "I'm Laurel Hayes," I introduced myself, holding out my right hand for him to take. He shook it and answered with his own name.

"Cole Cartwright. Everyone calls me Cole."

"Everyone calls me Laurel," I muttered and Cole laughed.

"My trial is in five days," he offered up and I looked at him curiously. "So it's around then that I'll be at the Island. When is yours?"

I shrugged and tried to feign nonchalance. "I don't know yet. I was arrested yesterday, but I have reason to think that they'll push my trial forward."

His eyes lit up. "Gossip! That's a song by British band You Me At Six," he added quickly before continuing his sentence. "So what is this reason, Laurel Hayes?"

I found that although Cole was nice enough and seemed trustworthy, I didn't want to tell him anything about why I had been arrested. Maybe it was because I was still ashamed at being caught, or maybe all criminals thought like it, but if I wasn't keen on telling him, I wasn't going to say a thing.

"That's for me to know," I told him with a wink.

"And me to find out?" he added hopefully.

"Nope," I shook my head. "Just for me to know. Nobody's going to be finding anything out about me apart from my lawyer."

Cole snorted. "Good luck with that one, Laurel Hayes."

A bell that I couldn't see, but could defiantly hear, rang out and Cole stood up. I mirrored him, wondering what was going on. He answered before I could ask.

"Dinner," he said, for once not speaking with a reference to a song that he had listened to.

I followed the steady stream of people who were walking in the direction of what I assumed was the mess hall.

When we pushed through the double doors, I looked around me in an uninterested way. It was about the size of my old school hall and had thousands of people sitting at blue tables eating from trays. The food didn't look amazing, but it was better than nothing. We were patted down in a quick and efficient way before joining the line for food. Cole handed me a tray with four compartments on it. One was small and round, so I figured that it was for my drink.

We inched forward through an archway and into a small serving area, where women with masks over their faces and grey overalls stood behind the counter, mumbling questions and dropping items of food onto trays. I reached the station for 'STARTERS', as the sign above the station proclaimed. In front of me were an assortment of shapeless, colourless starters. Instead of wasting time trying to guess what they were, I glanced at the labels that were stuck into the heated stainless steel tureens and read what they were. I picked the least offensive, two small and grey prawn spring rolls. They dripped grease and I barely managed to conceal my disgust that I was expected to eat it. I moved towards the 'MAIN COURSE' station and the serving lady stood there, glaring at me, blue eyes accusing over the top of her mask. I glanced at the available options and picked the beef lasagna, which barely looked any better than the so- called starter.

The 'DESSERT' line was short so I got through to the station fairly quickly. I picked the apple pie and grabbed a cup of apple juice and leaned on a huge concrete pillar while I waited for Cole. When he emerged, turning his nose up at the completely unappetising food in front of him, he led me to a small table. It only had one other person on there, another girl who only looked about fifteen, and she kept to herself as Cole and I forced down our pitiful meal. The food was bland and I was forced to blot the grease off of the spring rolls with four napkins before I could eat them. Growing up in the Slums had knocked any pickiness I might have had out of me, but this was easily the most disgusting thing I had ever eaten.

When we had eaten dinner, the bell rand out again in its annoying fashion and we all lined up at the side of the mess hall, being patted down to make sure we hadn't tried to steal any of the cutlery or something. There were five people taken away for having hidden plastic knives in their clothes and then sections of us were carted off towards different blocks which presumably held our cells.

"This is where we're all separated, so I shall see you tomorrow, Laurel Hayes," Cole whispered to me as his group started to peel off towards Block C. I smiled halfheartedly at him and nodded. My group were led towards Block A.

The doors to the block were huge and made entirely of metal bars; the L. E had to unlock the door and we all walked through a metal detector before we even entered the building. I could see why their security had to be so good, but really, they hadn't even put out metal cutlery! What were we meant to have on us that was metal?

The scanner flashed for over half of the group, but they were let through as the metal that had been detected was from zips or buckles on shoes. Red lights and a whirling siren sounded when I stepped through the arch and I had to show the L. E the metal zips on my jackets before I was allowed in.

Block A was made up completely of cells for the people who were in the detention centre; split over three levels were over a thousand cells with iron bars on the front. It was like something out of a film and everything looked a bit scary. There was a claustrophobic feeling hanging in the air, and you were truly trapped in there. I could deal with it, or so I told myself. I would be at my trial soon anyway.

I was led by a faceless male L. E to cell three seven five on the first floor and told that my new things were in there. He didn't smile and his tone was very much like the drone of a fly. He was unremarkable looking and, dressed in white as the other L. Es were, I realised that I probably wouldn't recognise him if I ever did see him again.

I stalked into my cell and sat down on my new bed. It was hard and lumpy with thin sheets and a blue duvet that was an inch thick. It didn't look like it would protect me very well if the block got cold. A disembodied voice that had apparently come from one of the speakers in the walkway outside of my cell demanded that everyone step away from the cell doors. A few seconds later, there was a scrape and then a loud, metallic clang as the doors shut. A click noise alerted me to the fact that I was now locked in my cell. Great.

There was a crinkling noise as I stood up to look around my new temporary home and I saw that there was a sheet of paper on the bed, slightly wrinkled from where I had sat on it. Picking it up and holding it to the light that was coming from outside my cell, I read it through.

National Detention Centre

All lights from within the cells are to be turned off at ten pm.

There is to be no noise from within the cells from ten pm.

Any personal items must be declared.

If you are awaiting your home trip, you will be notified of when it is to be by a Law Enforcer in due course.

I scanned it again quickly, surprised at the fact that I would be allowed a home trip. I figured that this would be to talk to your family before you had your trial (AKA before you were sent to the Island and had everything about you wiped off the face of the planet) and also to get any personal affects that you wanted to take with you, as long as they weren't weapons or communication devices.

I glanced at the alarm clock that was on the bedside table in my new cell; it said it was seven o'clock at night. I had three hours to kill and didn't have a clue what to do with myself. At the station, I had just slept, or been spoken to or been asked questions. Now I was locked in a cell that was smaller than that of the station and I had no idea what to do to keep myself occupied. Surely it wouldn't be that long until my trial, as the De Morvilles would want me out of England as quickly as possible; make me into an Unspeakable, force everyone who ever knew me to never speak about me again, make everyone forget about me.

I suddenly felt angry and, I admit it, a little scared of that. As much as I didn't want people for generations to come to say "Oh, that girl from the slums? She stole ten million pounds and was stupid enough to get caught and thrown onto the Island for her troubles.", there was a part of me that didn't want to be forgotten. I remembered when someone got sent to the Island a few years ago; he was living next door to me and my family at the time and every time someone from out of town who hadn't heard what had happened came and asked his parents where he had gone, they had to pretend that they had no idea who they were talking about. Their own son.

It disgusted me then, and it still does now.

As soon as the doors on the upper levels of Block A had closed and the L. Es settled down to whatever they did here at night (read? Sleep? Patrol?), a low noise started up. It took me a minute to figure out what it was exactly, because it wasn't exactly loud. And then I got it… People were talking to each other. Across the corridor, through bars to their neighbour, sending the odd bit of speech down through the storeys to a friend.

I didn't have a clue who any of these people were, so I didn't think I would be talking to anyone. That is, until the person in the cell to my left leaned her head out of the bars to look at me.

"Hey, new meat," she said, two blonde plaits swinging from either side of her head into the corridor. She was pretty and looked nice enough, but I had known my whole life that appearances could be deceptive.

"My name is Laurel, actually," I replied, deciding that being petulant and unflustered would be my best route with this girl. I crossed my arms over my chest, walking over to the edge of my cell so that I could sit down and talk a little more easily.

"Cool. They call me Chloe. Chloe Ford," the blonde replied. I added to my memory - after all, I could be seeing her on the Island before too long and if there was one thing that I didn't need, it was an enemy.

"Nice to meet you, Chloe," I said, settling my back against the bars of my cell and looking out across the floor to peek at the girls in the cells opposite us. They, too, were chatting to each other, reading books, listening to music. One girl was playing an acoustic guitar with her back to the rest of us so that the sound didn't carry that much. An L. E walked past Chloe and I, glanced at us, and then carried on walking. I resisted the urge to glare at him as he passed.

"Same to you, Laurel. So," she said, playing with the end of one of her plaits; she twirled it around her fingers like a baton before letting it fall to her shoulder again as she shifted her position to get more comfortable. "What are you in here for?"

I shrugged, not wanting to share anything about me. "I got arrested."

She snorted, looking amused. "Join the club," she said sarcastically before sobering up again. "What did you get arrested for? Mine was attempted murder. As in, I tried to kill the L. E who was raping a girl in an alley at the back of where I worked."

I raised my eyebrows at her. She didn't seem the type for attempted murder. '_You don't have to tell her the specifics,'_ my mind reasoned with me. '_Just tell her the basics, otherwise she's going to bug the hell out of you for ages.'_

"Robbery. Oh, and breaking and entering too." I said, shrugging again like it was no big deal.

"Oh, robbery," Chloe said, looking disappointed. _Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't do something more murderous to amuse you._ "Who did you try to steal from?"

"The De Morvilles."

The answer had come out of my mouth before my brain had fully registered what I was saying. I cursed mentally and berated myself for telling her. _Stupid, stupid, stupid Laurel!_

Chloe looked as though she had been run over by a truck; surprise was showing on every part of her face and she was looking at me as though I was mad. I probably was.

"You," she said finally in a voice that sounded half disbelieving and half in awe of me. "Are either completely bat shit crazy, or you're a brave genius."

I didn't know which one I really wanted to be, so I stayed quiet.

A few hours later when the L. Es called for lights out, I scrambled into my bed and pulled the duvet tight around me; this wasn't what I had imagined at all.

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**Thanks guys! I'd love it if I got some comments!**

**-Lauren**


	4. Part I: Chapter Four

**A/N:** Hey there guys! I'm back, after a pretty long absence! I'M SO SORRY! This month, I have been doing my annual tradition of dying/flailing/writing in NaNoWriMo. It went VERY VERY VERY VERY WELL ACTUALLY - SO HAPPY - I GOT MY 50,000 WORDS ON DAY 13. So yeah. HOW COOL IS THAT?! So here's chapter 4 of D+L. Sorry it's so late! I'm so behind on here, I just posted chapter 7 on my wattpad account. Oops. But ATTR over there is only posted up to chapter 3, so its all good. PRIORITIES - HERE COMES FIRST. AS IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN, SO IT SHALL CONTINUE. INTO THE FOUL ABYSS THAT IS READING THIS INSANE NOVEL! ONWARDS, ONWARDS!

I'm hyper/ill right now. You can't tell very much, right?

**Dedication: **To Ashleigh, for editing. To Callum, for also editing. To my mom, for also also editing. To Zoe for NOT ANSWERING ME (ILY REALLY). To everyone who reads this. I love you all!

**Disclaimer:** All rights reserved.

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**_Chapter Four_**

**_Location: The detention centre_**

I found out the following day from a particularly severe- looking L. E that my trial was set for five days time; I had almost one week in the detention centre before I had to be carted off for the court and be sent to the Island. At least I knew that Cole would be there when I got there.

The trip home that was mentioned in the rules that had been on my bed had been scheduled for three days time; apparently, it wasn't a social visit - just a chance to get the things that I wanted to take to the Island with me together. There would hardly be any time to speak to my parents properly, and they probably already knew anyway. If Jose had of told me that the system override would show up on the guards' computer, I wouldn't be in this mess. My blood boiled at the thought and I tried to push it out of my mind, but it wouldn't go very far.

The second day in the detention centre wasn't that bad. I had thought that the longer I would be there, the worse people would be, but it seemed as though nobody took any notice of the people who trickled steadily into the gaol from being arrested; maybe it was because nobody would be at the detention centre long enough to really call it home. It was a temporary holding place for all of us. The Island was where we were sent to serve our sentences, not the detention centre.

We were all woken up at seven in the morning by a blasting alarm that came through the intercom; Chloe threw a piece of crumpled up paper through the bars of my cell when there was no one looking. Trying to be inconspicuous, I dropped my jeans on top of it and then bent to pick them up. When I turned away from the corridor to pull on my top, I unfolded the paper to read what she had written on it. '_Meet me at the top of the steps at break_' was all that she had scrawled on it. I put the paper into the pocket of my hoodie (black with white drawstrings and a white zip, provided by the detention centre. I didn't know when they had put them into my room, but they definitely hadn't been folded at the foot of my bed when I had climbed into it the previous night.

I sat down on my bed and thought about what I would be doing today. Probably, it would just be a day of sitting in my cell until break, then sitting outside until lunch and then, after lunch, going back to my cell. It was a boring and repetitive timetable, but what else could they let us do? Run around and go crazy? I grinned at the mental image of us all just doing what we wanted.

Then I really thought about it. They couldn't let us out of the strict timetable in the detention centre, but they did on the Island. Why? Because on the Island, we were away from 'normal people'. We weren't the government's problem anymore, so we were left to our own devices. They couldn't allow us to run wild in the detention centre because, technically, we still belonged to the government.

At around ten o'clock, an L. E came around with a clipboard and asked everyone if they wanted something to do. By the time he got to me, I was bored out of my mind and was ready to do anything I could get my hands on in order to pass the time better.

"Want anything?" he asked lazily, staring at me.

I swallowed. "What is there?" I asked carefully.

He glanced at the list that was on his clipboard. "Musical instruments, art supplies, notebooks and pens, access to the computer lab and a clean iPod and books."

I thought about it hard. I wasn't the best at playing instruments; I only really knew how to tune a guitar, could play a few notes on a violin and do a few songs on the piano. But I didn't particularly want to play anything, so I ruled that option out.

I had always been good at art at school, but I hadn't painted in such a long time that I wasn't sure if I could do it anymore. Sketches were all that I had done recently, and none of them were very good. Besides, I wasn't sure if I wanted to draw or paint anything anyway.

Listening to music wasn't really my thing, so I immediately crossed that option off of the list, so the next thing I thought of was books. I loved to read, but I hadn't had the motivation or the time to during the past few years since leaving school, and I also loved to write. I didn't even bother to decide which to go for, so I decided to ask for both.

"Could I get a book please? And also that notebook and pens." I asked firmly, my mind made up. He nodded and reached into a bag that was on his right shoulder, hidden from view, and pulled out a blank notepad and a pack of pens and rulers. The paper was lined with a margin, for which I was thankful, as my handwriting didn't always like to stay straight when I had to write on plain paper. The stationery (which was four pencils and a fifteen centimetre ruler, along with an eraser and a metal sharpener, state of the art, where the blade was not accessible) was good quality pencils with different coloured ink cartridges and the ruler was fifteen centimetres instead of thirty centimetres which meant that it could be stored easily.

"The library trolley will come around at twenty past, so you can choose your book then," the L. E said, and then he was moving on to Chloe's cell. I opened the notepad to the first clear page, pulled a pencil out of the pencil case, and wrote my name on it experimentally, trying to get a feel for the pencil. Surprisingly, it was very nice to write with and the letters flowed unbroken and evenly. My handwriting was a bit shaky seeing as I hadn't written for a while, but after writing out a few phrases, it was back to its normal neatness. I paused then, unsure what I was supposed to write about.

I stared hard at the paper, before putting the pencil to the page and writing two words:

'_Chapter One'._

My brain had gone into overdrive, thinking about plots, characters, foreshadowing and the like. I myself was shell shocked; since when did I ever want to write a novel? I thought hard, skimming through memories until I reached one from when I was around eight years old. I had been big into my writing then and had written a ten thousand word story about a ladybird. It had taken me about three weeks to write and I was happy with it. When my mother found the draft one day, I had shouted at her for peeking and thrown her out of my room so that I could make the front cover and write out the final draft. She hadn't got a clue what I was doing, so when I presented the finished version of 'The Ladybird' to her on her birthday a month later, she was very shocked. I could remember her reading it all right then and there in front of me. She had told me that I had a talent and that one day, she wouldn't be surprised if she saw a book with my name on the cover in a book shop.

Life had gotten in the way of my passion for writing then; I had exams to prepare for in school, then finding out details about the De Morville's house and then I had a job interview, and then the job itself. I hadn't written a word of fiction since that day, and I had always wanted to. Sometimes, I had longed to just sit at my desk for hours and write out a plot that had popped into my head, but I never had. I just lay there, dreaming about it and how it might feel to finish another story.

I put down the notebook and pen on the bed next to me and began to think it through. Did I really want to write again now? The answer was a clear, instantaneous 'yes'. It was the right time to start writing again, what with everything that had been going on around me since I had started planning the break in at the age of twelve years old.

Something in the back of my mind seemed to stir; I imagined it to be my muse, and she looked a lot like my mother, all big brown eyes and fluffy brown curly hair that came to her shoulders. She rubbed her hands together gleefully and began to plan. She planned about plots that I had dreamt about throughout my life, about characters and their names, back stories and sub- plots.

After I got a brief idea of what I wanted to do, I began to write, my neat joined- up handwriting that always slanted to the right soon filling up the lines. A page was gone. Then another, and another until I had written an opening scene, written in a setting and introduced the main character.

The words flowed easily, and while I was writing, I felt better about everything that had happened to me recently. I forgot about being caught at the De Morville's house, being arrested, my trial being in five days time, having to face the disappointment of my parents in a few days… It all just disappeared.

By the time I had gotten halfway through the first chapter, it was half past eleven and it was time for break. I flipped the cover of the notebook over and placed the pencil back in its rightful spot.. After placing both on top of my bedside table, I walked through my suddenly open cell door and followed the people who were on their way to the courtyard. When I got outside, I went straight to the steps where I had met Cole the previous day and saw Chloe sitting at the top. I climbed the stairs towards her and sat down beside her.

"So I got your message," I told her, wrapping my arms around my legs.

"Good," she replied and flicked her blonde ponytail over her shoulder so that it cascaded across her body. "I wanted to talk to you properly."

'Oh no,'

My brain supplied. _'This is because you told her you stole from the De Morvilles. Stupid, stupid brain that says things before thinking about it!'_

"Oh,?" I replied, folding my arms over my chest, deciding that I could play the same game as Chloe if I wanted to. "What did you want to talk about?"

She tilted her head to the left, a sardonic, knowing smile on her lips. "You told me that you tried to steal from the De Morvilles. You tried to steal ten million pounds from them, and then you get caught? I'm figuring it was because of an interfering factor, not you being careless. It was probably more about the guards getting lucky."

I was shocked beyond words, my mouth was probably hanging open; how the hell did she know all of that?! I hadn't told ANYBODY, and she was the only person I'd even come close to telling about what had happened!

"What, you think that the story didn't get out?" she scoffed, laughing at my expression. "The De Morvilles might not have wanted everyone to find out, but that doesn't mean that we don't already know. Someone told me about it yesterday. I'm quite a big deal around here, you see. No one wants to get on my bad side. Apparently, they're all scared that I'll attack them." Chloe flicked her ponytail again, not seeming to mind that the criminals that were being prepared to be sent to the Island were scared of her.

"Oh," was all that I said. I mean, what else could I really say? "So what do you want?"

She watched me carefully. "I want your help." she replied simply.

"You want my help," I repeated in disbelief. "When everyone here is scared to death of you. Why would you need my help?"

"On the Island, you're going to be a legend; nobody has ever tried to steal from the government before. You'll be the It Girl on there, and I'll seem tame in comparison. I mean, how many people are arrested for attempted murder? It's a common crime. But you… You've got guts to steal from the government. And I'll need protection there; that's where you come in."

Now it was my turn to scoff. "The 'It Girl'? What do you think this is, High School? Why would you even need my protection there? You're pretty intimidating, unless you hadn't already noticed."

Chloe scoffed again, doing that exasperated little cough- sigh hybrid noise that people do when they don't believe something. "That won't mean shit on the Island, Laurel. You think some sixteen- stone killing machine is gonna be scared of me? Get real."

We fall silent for a moment or two, both of us just looking at the other, trying to figure out what we should both do. I spoke first.

"Look, I don't mean to offend you Chloe, but I don't think I can help you. I mean, what if they think I'm just a stupid little girl and want to… I don't know!... Test my abilities or something stupid like that?" I asked her, hands in front of me, spread out, like I was holding an invisible tray of food. "I just want to keep my head down, serve my sentence in that place and then get the hell back home."

Chloe narrowed her eyes at me. "If anything, they'll be in fucking awe of you! Didn't it occur to you that there could be people on there who don't like what the world has fucking turned into with this stupid government?" she snarled at me as if I was stupid.

I resisted the urge to back up a few feet and stared her down. "You think I'm stupid?" I replied quietly. "Of course I know that. My point is, I don't _want_ to be noticed, even though you might. I want to keep my head the hell _down_ and get off of that place as soon as possible. What part of that don't you understand?"

Suddenly, Chloe's lips turned up into a sardonic smile. "Wow, you really don't like attention, do you?" she teased, suddenly changing back to being friendly with me. She was so mercurial! "Nobody's ever talked back to me before, Laurel," she added, seeing my slightly bemused expression at her change of personality. "It just proves that you've got guts to do that. Look, I'm not asking for much. Just flash your name here and there and make it plain that we're friends so that neither of us will get beat to death."

I raised my eyebrows at her, still not keen on the idea. "Oh, we're friends, are we?"

"Um… Yeah," she replied, talking as though it was obvious and I was simply unobservant.

I gave in, sighing a little. "Okay, whatever. But if you get into deep shit, I'm not pulling you out of it. That will be your own fault."

Chloe grinned, wrapping some of her blonde ponytail around her index finger. "Good! Thanks. Now that's sorted out, I need to go and get to the computer labs and write an email to my lawyer. He refuses to come to the detention centre anymore because the last client he had attacked him with eggs. He hates it here, so if I want to talk to him, I have to email him. Ciao." She said, standing up and hurrying down the steps two at a time so that she could get there before lunch. I had barely looked around when Cole sat down beside me with a thump.

"_It's four- oh- three and I can't sleep without you next to me I toss and turn like the sea!_," he sang as he pulled out an earphone. "'If you only knew' by Shinedown," he added. "What's up with the chat with Chloe "I- attempted- murder- 'cause- I'm- badass" Ford?" he asked, turning the volume down on his state of the art iPod; all he had to do was hold his hand over the screen and the volume would be adjusted.

I shrugged at his question. "We're cell neighbours. We got talking last night and she's quite cool, actually. She asked me if I'd look after her on the Island, if you _must_ know, Cole." I answered him, shaking my head as though he had no right to know. Well, Chloe hadn't told me not to tell anyone, had she?

Cole raised an eyebrow, as was his custom whenever I said something that he found unbelievable. "You think she's _nice_? She's so intimidating nobody will even go near her. Everyone was staring at the two of you when you were speaking!"

I frowned at him. "I don't think they were, Cole. I think it was just you."

"No," he insisted. "You didn't see them. They were all staring, trust me. Anyway, if you're going to be friends with Chloe, you'll be untouchable. Everyone will be scared of you."

I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation at his words. "Nobody has any reason to be scared of me! If they're going to be like that just because of whom I talk to, then they really need to reconsider whether they're going to be tough enough for the Island."

He grinned at me like a maniac. "Touché," was all that he said.

Over the intercom came the loud bell that told everyone that dinner was ready. We all made our way towards the mess hall and repeated the same process as the previous day. I had fajitas that were marginally better than the food had been the previous day, with a bowl of potato and leek soup for my starter and a slice of apple and blackcurrant pie for pudding. My drink was elderflower and pear juice that was surprisingly thirst- quenching. I liked it a lot more than I would have expected to, at least.

Cole sat beside me again and a few other people came over to our table thins time, asking what my name was and why I had been arrested. I answered that I had been caught while I was attempting robbery. In the end, it wasn't enough for them, and they gave up asking what it was exactly that I had been arrested for, and walked away to finish their own lunches, leaving Cole and I in peace.

I sighed, taking a bite of chicken BBQ fajita after adding a spoonful of soured cream to it. "I don't see why I am so fascinating, Cole," I commented. "It's not like I pulled the crime of the century."

"Hmm," Cole said, chewing his way through his second fajita, brandishing it at me, sending drops of soured cream and BBQ cooking sauce flying in every direction. "The point is," he said after gulping down his truly huge bite of food. "You're new meat around here and there's been a rumour going around that you're the girl who tried to steal from the De Morvilles."

I stiffened, not expecting him to just come out with it. I glanced around to see if anyone had heard, then realized how suspicious I was acting, and attempted to laugh it off.

"As if I would be stupid enough to try and steal from the De Morvilles!" I said, laughing falsely. Cole, however, wasn't fooled by my awful attempt to lie and his mouth fell open, eyes widened and he sat up straight so quickly that his earphones fell out and clunked metallically as they hit against the table leg.

"You did do it!" he whisper- shouted.

"Shh!" I said desperately, looking over both of my shoulders to check if anyone had been listening in. "You don't need to tell the whole world!"

Cole stared at me before picking up his earphones again, untangling the knots in the wires before putting them back into his ears. "You either need to act like you're untouchable, or just never tell anybody the truth. Because, Laurel, if someone thinks you're weak… You're screwed."


End file.
